Second Chance (25 page)

She loves LA. Loves the life she has built out here, but meeting up with this huge chunk of her past has made her homesick in a way she didn’t expect. And not homesick for London – God knows she spends enough time there as it is – but homesick for friends. For real friends. Friends who aren’t rivals, aren’t pretending to be friendly to find work, aren’t judging you for how famous you are.

She is homesick for the people who knew her when it all began. Who loved her when she was a gangly teenager with railway tracks. Who held her hair back on those nights when she had more to drink than even she could handle, spending hours with her as she knelt with her head down the toilet bowl. Those are the friends she misses. Friends like Paul, Olivia and Holly.

Ringing Olivia, Saffron readies herself to leave another message, when Olivia picks up.

‘’lo?’

‘Olive Oil? Saffron here.’

Olivia starts laughing. ‘God, I’d completely forgotten you ever called me Olive Oil. That’s hysterical. Where are you?’

‘LA. Bored. Missing England and my old friends. What are you up to?’

‘Actually it’s not very pleasant. I’ve picked up a stomach bug and I’ve been throwing up for days.’

‘Food poisoning or a bug?’

‘I think a bug. Doesn’t food poisoning end after about a day?’

‘I think it depends on how severe it is. You should go and see a doctor. Unless, of course…’ Saffron allows a dramatic pause ‘… you could be pregnant.’

‘Hardly.’ Olivia laughs, and then the colour drains from her face.

‘Such a treat.’ Maggie smiles over at Holly and covers Holly’s hand lightly with her own. ‘All these years of not seeing you, and now it’s just like you’re my daughter again, back in the family, and seeing you with your own children, a mother yourself,’ she laughs, ‘it’s just lovely, Holly. And I love that you invited me out for lunch. I haven’t been out anywhere since we lost Tom, and I’m glad I’m able to be out with you.’

‘I’m glad you’re here with me too.’ Holly’s smile is tinged with sadness. ‘It is lovely to see you and to be with you. I hadn’t realized, all these years, how much I missed talking to you. Do you remember how you would sit with me at the kitchen table for hours, talking through my problems, giving me advice, while Tom rolled his eyes and went upstairs in a huff to plug in his headphones and drown out our laughter with Pink Floyd?’

Maggie nods and closes her eyes as she remembers, the pleasure and pain burning a tear down her cheek even through her smile.

‘I think he was always a bit jealous of our relationship,’ Maggie says, ‘of how easy it was for you to turn to me. Tom was never much good at asking for help.’

‘That’s because he never needed any,’ Holly says, and they both laugh. ‘It is so good to see you. It makes me
wonder how I managed without you all these years. You know, you’ve always felt more like my mother than my own mother.’

‘Your other mother, you used to call me.’ Maggie smiles. ‘Do you remember?’

Holly nods and laughs.

‘My heart always went out to you, Holly,’ Maggie says, her face now serious. ‘You seemed so lost in those days. So unhappy.’

‘I did?’ Holly is shocked. Of course, it was how she’d felt inside, but she’d seemed so at home at Maggie and Peter’s, she hadn’t expected them to see it too, had thought she masked it so well.

‘Peter always used to say that you would grow up to be a great beauty.’ Maggie’s eyes grow distant as she reminisces. ‘And although I could see the possibility, I was never sure you were going to fulfil your potential because you were so very awkward in your skin as a teenager. You never looked as if you were comfortable, as if you liked who you were; and I was never certain you were going to be able to claim your self, sit in your skin and be proud of who you are.’

There is a long pause as Maggie enfolds Holly in the warmth of her smile. ‘And of course,’ she continues, ‘look at you. So utterly beautiful and lovely, and finally so very sure of who you are.’

‘Oh God, Maggie. How can you say that? How can you believe that, have so much faith in me when I don’t even have it in myself?’

‘You don’t?’ Maggie frowns. ‘But you do, my darling. I see it all over you.’

‘Maybe in some respects, but there are times when I wake up and have no idea who I am or what I want. Whether this is the life I’m supposed to be living.’

Maggie leans back in her chair and nods. ‘Aaah.’ She smiles finally. ‘This sounds like a mid-life crisis.’

And Holly sits forward, leans towards her, her face now alert. A mid-life crisis. She was joking when she mentioned it to Will. How can she be having a mid-life crisis at thirty-nine? Isn’t it supposed to happen at forty? But a mid-life crisis doesn’t sound wrong. Something about it sounds very right, and if it is, in fact, a mid-life crisis, then there are ways to get beyond it, surely, ways to move on without blowing your life up and watching the pieces land where they may.

‘Do you really think that’s what it might be?’

‘I had one when I was thirty-nine.’ Maggie smiles. ‘Just where you are now. In fact, you were around then. I’m surprised you weren’t aware of something and didn’t pick up on anything, given how perceptive you were.’

‘I was? How old were we?’

‘You and Tom were fifteen. It was soon after you came into the family. An awful time. The things I put poor Peter through, but I understand why I did it, just as I understood it then, although I was in a slightly different situation.’

‘How so?’

‘Remember, I married Peter when I was twenty-three. A child. I married him because I was desperate to be a grown-up, to have a house of my own, children of my own, and it was the only way I could see to do it.’

‘So you weren’t in love with him?’ Holly is hoping to hear her own story, that Maggie will mirror her and Marcus’s story, will give her hope for redemption, for a happy ever after, which she is so certain Maggie has had with Peter.

Maggie frowns. ‘Oh darling, of course I was in love with him. I was madly, hopelessly in love with him. Even when he had those ghastly leg-of-mutton sideburns I thought he was the most handsome, devilish, delicious man I’d ever come across. Don’t ever tell him this, but sometimes my butterflies would be so bad before he came to pick me up at my parents’ house, I’d actually throw up.’

Holly makes a face as she laughs.

‘I adored him. But I married him too young. He was my first serious boyfriend, and we married a year after we met; and I thought I’d never look at another man again for the rest of my life.’

Holly draws a sharp intake of breath. ‘You mean you did?’ Her voice drops to a whisper. ‘Did you have an affair?’

Maggie smiles. ‘No, my sweet girl. I didn’t. It wasn’t about someone else. It was about wanting to be young again, not wanting to be a mother of teenagers, not wanting to be up to my elbows in laundry and cooking and cleaning.’

‘But you love cooking… you always seemed so happy when I was over. I never saw any dissatisfaction.’

‘I do love cooking, but I had joined a life-drawing class at the local art school, and all my friends were young and hip. Even the ones who were the same age
as I was had carved out very different lives for themselves, lives that didn’t involve boisterous teenagers and entertaining the husband’s boss at home. I didn’t want to be me, I wanted to be them. I wanted to walk in someone else’s shoes.’

‘So what happened?’

‘I was going to leave, not because I didn’t love Peter any more, but because I needed some space to figure out what I wanted.’ Maggie sighs as she remembers. ‘Good lord, Holly, I haven’t thought about this for years. Hard even now to remember how much pain I put Peter through.’

‘How did he react?’ As she speaks, Holly is thinking about Marcus. How would he react? Would he care? Did he even love her any more? Did he ever?

‘He put his foot down and said no. Absolutely not. He wasn’t having it. He said it simply wasn’t acceptable. He said he wouldn’t tolerate the damage it would do to Tom, Will and him, and that everyone had whims from time to time, and if I thought he didn’t sometimes think about going off and spending night after night at the Playboy club chasing after blonde models, I’d better think again. He said that marriage was for life and that this was what commitment meant. It meant riding the ups and downs, recognizing that marriage wasn’t always champagne and roses. Nor was it always dull or awful. That everything passes and that love, real love, means weathering the storms and emerging stronger as a result.’

Holly’s eyes are wide as she takes it all in. ‘So you stayed.’

‘Of course I stayed.’ Maggie smiles. ‘Reluctantly at first, but honestly that bit about him seducing models gave me a bit of a start. It was one thing for me to fantasize about being single, but quite another to think of Peter going off with some blonde totty. Also,’ she leans forward with a conspiratorial smile, ‘I actually completely fancied him when he got all stern.’

Holly breaks into peals of laughter.

‘It’s true.’

‘And you’ve never regretted it?’ The laughter disappears as Holly grows pensive.

‘No, my darling. I never have. We’ve been married over forty years, and it is just exactly as he said.’ She pauses for a while then smiles gently at Holly. ‘So that, Holly my darling, is my story and my story alone. If my experience can help you in any way, so be it, but whatever the journey that awaits you, it will be yours and no one can tell you what to do.’

Holly sighs as she looks at the table. ‘That doesn’t help, Maggie.’

‘I know, darling. It’s not supposed to. Your answers will come, just trust that time and experience will tell you what you need to do.’

‘You really are my other mother, aren’t you?’ Holly smiles.

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning my real mother would sit here and tell me exactly what I was doing wrong and what I have to do to fix it.’

‘It’s not my job to judge you, Holly.’

‘Now you sound like Tom.’

‘That’s what Will always says.’

At the mention of his name, Holly feels herself flush ever so slightly. She has wanted to speak his name with Maggie, find out… what? Something. Anything. Does Maggie know anything? Has he spoken about Holly to Maggie? Would Maggie feel differently about Holly’s impending journey and the outcome if she knew that Will, her own beloved son Will, was the catalyst for this storm of emotions and feelings?

Maggie watches Holly colour, and she is not sure what to say, whether to say anything at all. For just as Tom was the caretaker, her reliable, wonderful, consistent son, Will has always been her ne’er-do-well, her irresponsible, frustrating, but oh-so-beloved baby of the family.

As a mother you are not supposed to have favourites. If anyone ever asked Maggie – before this, of course, before Tom – whether she had a favourite, she would shake her head in horror and say she loved them the same, loved them differently, but not one more, or less, than the other.

But that is not quite true. Tom always had a special place in her heart as her firstborn, a bond that could never be replicated; but something in her heart shifted the moment Will was born – she felt a love that was so overwhelming, so overpowering in its purity that she didn’t actually know before that moment that love that strong could exist.

When he was a toddler she would follow Will around with her eyes, watch his face crease up with laughter.
And he was always laughing, was the happiest, funniest, cheekiest toddler she had ever seen.

And he loved his mother. Oh
how
he loved his mother. Maggie would say, for years, that he would crawl back into her stomach if he could. And it was true. Wherever she was, whatever she was doing, Will was next to her or on top of her, flinging his arms around her and covering her with kisses.

‘I lub you, Mummy,’ he would say at age two, almost the only thing he could say.

‘I lub you too,’ she’d say; and he’d parrot it back, over and over. The two of them could go on for hours.

And when she got cross with him or found herself raising her voice at him, he would look at her, his eyes wide, stricken, and say, ‘Mummy, why are you being mean to me?’ And all would be instantly forgiven.

Perhaps, she has often thought, this is why she has a special spot in her heart for him; perhaps because he loved her so much, he gave her little choice. Tom had always been stoic, independent. Tom had loved her, of course, but he hadn’t
needed
her; and Will has always needed her. Still does.

Even now, at thirty-five, independent (allegedly), when he should be getting on with his life, Maggie knows she would do anything for Will.

And the worst thing – the thing she tries very hard not to think about, has never even whispered out loud to another living soul – is that in the dead of night, when she is lying awake, hurting with the pain of losing Tom, the thought that so often comes to her is: At least it wasn’t Will. At least Will is still here.

Will, who leaves a trail of broken hearts wherever he goes, who she prays will find happiness eventually, who is so clearly involved with dear, lovely Holly. Will, who is so clearly, and oh so frustratingly, the force behind whatever crisis Holly imagines herself to be going through in her marriage.

Oh lord, she thinks. What am I supposed to say? But the words come out without her even thinking about them for she has sat here too many times with women who are not Holly but who are heartsick over Will, heartsick over his lack of commitment and his inability to love them in the way they love him, heartsick that he isn’t able to be the man they want him to be. And now she finds herself sitting opposite Holly.

Dear, lovely Holly, who is married and has children, must not pin her hopes or anything else on lovely, incorrigible Will.

‘Be careful,’ Maggie says softly. Suddenly.

And Holly’s faint flush deepens to a rich burgundy.

‘What do you mean?’ Holly says quietly.

‘I mean Will, my darling.’

Holly attempts a laugh. ‘Maggie, there’s nothing going on with Will. We’re just friends. He’s certainly not the reason for this… mid-life crisis.’

‘Darling girl, it is not mine to judge, and if I am mistaken, then I so hope you will forgive me.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘If Will has anything to do with whatever you are going through, and it is quite possible that he has not, but if he has, please, my darling, don’t make
any changes, don’t do anything with the belief that Will is the man for you.’